


Where Lovers Bloom

by spnsmile



Series: Destiel Prompt August Collection 2020 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Romance, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Forehead Kisses, French Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, Love at First Sight, M/M, Neck Kissing, Romance, Rough Kissing, Slow Romance, Surprise Kissing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Writer's Month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25664053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsmile/pseuds/spnsmile
Summary: A florist tilts his head at sunshine-smiling green-eyed tattoo artist who just asked him a question."I'm looking for a Leviathan blossom."A what?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel Prompt August Collection 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860856
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Where Lovers Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts 2020  
> 1\. Tattoo artist/flower shop AU

Castiel distractedly glances up from where kneels on the ground deep in the greenhouse, where he’s been moving the Petunias and Poinsettias near the ventilation since morning. He's sure he heard the chimes of the glass door in the flower shop he left without anyone to look after.

Picking himself up, he dusts his knees with dirty gloves before running back up front, feeling the prickling sensation at the back of his nape for too much bending and hears a crack when he deliberately stretches his neck sideward. Grumbling to himself, he pushes the back door leading to the main room. The weather is mercilessly hot, and he’s already soaked in his own sweat from moving around too much, that by the time he reached the counter, the customer is already punching the service bell placed thoughtlessly on top of the table.

“Can I help you with anything?” Castiel says at the top of the dings seeing a tall man with short light brown hair wearing a black shirt with arms covered in winding black and red inks wrapped to the roots of his skin disappearing under his bulky sleeves. A bike gangster?

Contrary to general belief, flower shops are never stagnant in nature. Occasions happen daily with trillions of people with different reasons to celebrate stopping by in bulks and numbers especially during peak seasons to buy all sets of flowers in different bouquets and designs. Castiel’s been on this trade long enough and has met and dealt with different variety of customers to the point that seeing a man tattooed to his soul, standing around, possibly looking for a flower to make someone feel better, is not the oddest thing in the world.

The man with heavy tattoos glances in his direction, getting Castiel to forget his morning pains when his gaze meets a curious pair of beautiful emerald eyes. Not only that—his whole features are impossibly appealing, making Castiel’s heart to tumble down his toe. He catches his breath just in time, realizing he’s been staring at the man’s face quite rudely. He needs to apologize until he realized he’s not the only one acting like he’s been struck by lightning.

The man doesn’t blink. He stares at Castiel open-mouthed that it’s the florist who feels his embarrassment grow. It must be the hot atmosphere that gets people in the head. Clearing his throat, he slowly makes his way closer to the service bell until he is standing facing the customer with only the counter table between them. He tightens his fist into balls when the man’s beauty is too much to behold upon closer inspection.

“Um… hello.” Castiel starts again, business first he tells himself. “Can I help you with anything?” he repeats.

“Yes,” the man blinks, “I’m Dean, nice to meet you uh… Cas?” man with tattoo flickers both eyes at the name tag attached by his left side. He smiles when he lifts his eyes, rendering Castiel speechless at how bright and easy-going he is. “I’m looking for um… a flower?”

Castiel inclines his head. “I’m a florist.”

Dean nods, smiling lopsidedly, “Yeah, yeah, you’re the florist…I'm tattoo artist, see? I got this client who wants a designed flower, uh a rare one? Uh, bloom? Thing is I don’t have it in my collection and he’s a patron so I wanna make the effort to find it. Make him happy.”

“How lucky he has a dedicated artist, but what flower?” Castiel asks curiously.

“That’s just it, it’s not on the internet so I thought I’d ask an actual florist. Do you have uh…whatsis…” he wets full lips, words bouncing off the plush pair, "I'm looking for a Leviathan blossom."

_A what?_

“Leviathan blossom?" his confusion must've shown as the handsome man repeats. "A flower?”

Castiel stares at him. He begins to shake his head but Dean leans with elbows down the counter with determined eyes, unyielding not ready to receive a no.

“You never heard of it? You think it really doesn’t exist?” he sounds so hopeless and hopeful at the same time Castiel is disheartened to give him a definite answer.

“Well, it’s definitely not available here,” he presses his lips when Dean groans. “Are you sure you’ve tried the internet?” Castiel pulls out his smartphone and begins typing. Dean leans closer so their heads practically brush, breathing the same hair that makes Castiel blush.

“So what kind of client wants a Leviathan in their bodies?” he asks to ignore the constant flutters deep in his stomach. Dean lifts both eyes and at close up, he is a picture to behold with a scattered number of freckles on his cheeks.

“What’s a Leviathan?” the lack of knowledge is genuine and Castiel blames all his bible stories courtesy of his now absentee father.

“It’s… they’re supposed to be primeval monsters locked by god to protect his creations…”

“There you have it,” Dean points out, “the answer why my man wants that design. Kinda makes him a badass if they got monsters crawling in their chest.” He grins playfully and Castiel wonders if he’s ever seen anything so attractive.

“He could’ve had a human face tattooed and it’ll have the same effect,” Castiel replies absently.

Dean’s eyes are terribly distracting, “You don’t like people, do you?”

“I work with flowers single-handedly.”

“Oh? So you think humans are… monsters?” he says, sounding interested, “Uh… just to clarify, are you talking about dirty things? Pretty guy?”

“No, I…”

“Go on…” An expression close to curiosity and the willingness to listen painted in his solemn eyes gets Castiel to sigh.

“Leviathans are supposed to be monsters kept by god to protect the rest of his creation… he was supposed to lock them down, but here we are. Doesn’t that ask the bigger question of who the real Leviathans are?” He finished with a hard swallow. He hates himself for the slip of the tongue, it’s no way to impress a man, he tells himself, blabbering about ideologies and stupid remarks. But Dean did not laugh at him.

Dean nods at him, expression hard to explain.

“Want me to lock down the humans?” he breaks the silence with a fitting easy grin, so intoxicating and Castiel finds himself smiling. For a man to put a smile on his face is surprising.

“So what’ll it take for said opinion to change? How do I get to start you to like humans?”

“I’m beginning to like one,” Castiel whispers, his face growing hot. He quickly taps on the only item at the top of the search bar he hasn’t read. After a while he nods, aware that Dean’s eyes are watching him.

“Umm… unless you want to step into the fallen garden of the Leviathans, there’s nothing here except an online game of Leviathan Eros Blossom…” their heads close together, the florist reads, “um… _it’s a skin with traditional petals of a blossom long associated with love and desire… adorn the flanks of any ship using romantically charged… nanocoating from Guardian angels_.”

They both glance up at the same time.

“It’s a highly biblical online game.” Castiel comments.

Dean ducks his head, grabbing Castiel’s hand in the process when he turns the screen his way, “ _The blossoms are celebrating love held close or are seeking another to receive their devotion_ …”

They are tucked so close to each other, shoulder bumping, arms overlapping as Castiel catches a closer inspection of Dean’s lips while he reads. Pink doesn’t make that color look so tasty. His throat dries up when the tattoo artist finishes with a flick of tongue swiftly runs down his wet lips.

“That’s a pretty romantic type of flower. I don't here people falling in line for them on Valentines. Great, I really want one.”

He stares at Castiel who nods, oddly attuned to what Dean is saying.

“Me too…”

“What you gonna do with that? You’re already a pretty flower in bloom yourself,” Dean says under his breath, but they are so close Castiel heard everything.

It must be the heat of the afternoon, or probably the undeniable attraction, but Castiel can’t help falling in Dean’s space and gaze. He sees Dean holds his breath beside him, eyes attentive to the movement of his lips, and everything else is forgotten, _love and desire_ ringing in Castiel’s ears.

“Um… I don’t think the flowers—?” he starts, distractedly, but what? Exist? Something else is existing between them entirely and Castiel swears to god he knows Dean can feel it too. The way Dean won’t stop staring down his lips with green searching eyes robbing him of breath—something.

_Love and desire…_

“What’s that?” even Dean seems out of sorts, “I mean… hey… you have anyone special?”

Castiel shakes his head.

“Uh….well, uh…” Dean’s mouth hangs open in disbelief. “I want… I…”

Castiel really doesn’t mean to, but patience is not one of his strong points. Throwing things out of the table because—as his excuse—Dean is an inch away—he leans down to indulge his longing and capture the cherry sweet lips between his own. Dean’s mouth is soft despite the hardness of his appearance and he just melts in his touch. The best part is Dean kissing him back, groaning against his mouth as they make out, phone forgotten on the table, pulling and licking the florist’s lips while Castiel tugs his collar. Dean does his best to get himself above the counter. There’s a blast of ringtone making both of them jump apart in surprise.

It’s the phone alarm telling Castiel to water the flowers. Panic rises up in Castiel’s throat when the realization of what he’s done begins to dawn on him—except he only hears a deep exhale from Dean. He shyly looks up, embarrassed in all forms.

“I’m sorry, I don’t usually—” he blames the heat.

“Damn it,” Dean stares up at him, “I wasn’t kidding when I told you I want one.”

“Well, there’s your… _blossom_.” Castiel clears his throat, cheeks red and still winded, trying hard to grasp a little sense of dignity but Dean is smiling wide and shy too.

“Gott tell him my guy there’s only one Leviathan blossom and he’s not getting it from me,” he says, eyeing Castiel’s lips so hungrily it should make him feel offended but no. Castiel’s head swims.

“That sounds perfect.”

They stare and stare until Castiel makes a tentative cock of head toward the counter door where Dean can actually use as an entrance.

“Um… would you… would like—?”

_Coffee? Inside?_

“Another blossom? Yeah.” Dean eagerly nods.

Castiel smiles. Yes, that too.


End file.
